Behind Closed Doors
by HopefulHeir
Summary: You're sure you're losing your mind. This guy hates you; he doesn't want your help. And yet, somehow, the two of you connect and seem to comfort one another more than either of you thought possible. You feel like you can tell him anything. What the hell have you gotten yourself into?
1. Maybe You Should Tell Someone?

You're ready to tear your fucking hair out.

"Fuck off, Lalonde," you growl, "I'm not _projecting_ anything onto anyone." You slump in your seat and cross your arms, glaring at her from across the table. The fact that she would even consider suggesting such a thing offends you.

And now she's just giving you that coy smile like she's got this stupid idea of some stupid thing she's figured out and you really wish you'd never come to her about this. "Karkat," she begins, as if you weren't already paying attention, "are you telling me that you don't spend sleepless nights alone in your room, lamenting your quote-unquote 'failures'?"

You frown and blush slightly, averting your gaze. "Of course not," you mumble, even though you know that she knows you're lying. She's Rose Lalonde; of course she knows.

"I see," she says with a nod, "then I suppose Kanaya's worries are unwarranted, and you've finally managed to break a habit that you've had for sweeps?"

She's staring you down, and now you're sure that you absolutely regret ever even considering coming to her with this; the hint of an idea that something good could still come out of this is gone now. "Yes," you lie again. If you open up too much to Rose, you won't be able to get her off of your back…well, ever. You'd rather avoid that road. "Look, if you don't think there's a problem, I'll just fucking leave. Sorry for wasting your time; I just thought you would care a little bit more."

Rose raises an eyebrow, but otherwise her expression doesn't change. "The possibility that something could be wrong with my brother is absolutely something that I care about, Karkat," she says, and god damn if you wish she couldn't just say what she has to say without making it so unnecessarily wordy. "But as I've said before, if something were wrong with Dave, he would want to speak with me about it. That's the way it's always been with the two of us. Okay?" Her smile becomes more genuine, and you feel like it's another example of her strange sense of sarcasm. "There's nothing to worry about."

You scoff. "I wasn't worried. I just thought you would be." You stand up and shove the chair back under the table. "I'll be in my block if you need me."

You wonder if she knows that you plan to scream into a pillow once you get there.


	2. What The Hell Was That?

You nearly jump out of your skin at the sudden sound of an angry scream. You're on your feet in a flash, sword in hand and eyes wide and darting around the room wildly, looking for the threat.

It takes a minute to realize there isn't one there.

You sigh and captchalogue your sword again. You walk over to the wall that just screamed at you for no fucking reason and lean against it before slumping down to the floor. You curl in on yourself, trying to make your hands stop shaking, trying to tell yourself that there's no danger here. The wall isn't going to hurt you.

The moment of rational thinking brings you back to reality long enough to realize that walls don't fucking scream at people. What the hell _was_ that, anyway?

You listen hard and can just barely hear the sound of a muffled voice. That's right, you aren't alone anymore; Karkat took up the room next door. Man, he's really chatting himself up in there. You wonder what set him off this time.

Usually Karkat's rants are fucking hilarious, but right now you wish he would just shut up. You wish he'd stayed in the room he originally had; you picked this one to be alone. This end of the meteor, away from everyone else, was always quiet. It was good for making music, good for writing, and good for being left alone when you don't want anyone to see what you've become.

Karkat's so loud though. He gets angry and throws temper tantrums and it breaks through your silence and honestly scares the shit out of you sometimes. You once drew a comic of him turning into the fucking hulk and punching a hole through your wall in anger, and while the shitty comic had been fucking hilarious, the idea didn't help the fact that his sudden outbursts always make you jump.

Luckily, he seems to be quieting down. Thank god. Now you can focus on getting your hands to chill the fuck out instead of trying to listen to whatever he's trying to say.

You push yourself back up to your feet and begin to pace, your footsteps creating an odd beat. You keep it going for a minute, changing it around a little.

Yeah, maybe a little freestyle will help. You wonder what will come to you this time.

" _The walls are screamin'  
I'm ready to fight  
I jump to my feet  
Day or night  
I don't need no dreamin'  
cause dreams are no realer  
than screaming walls  
and some kinda brain healer  
And now here I'm deemin'  
myself unfixable  
my mind's hella broken  
and it's just so unfeasible-"_

You stop yourself short. That went in a completely different direction than you'd intended. Why can't you ever think about anything besides your own fucked up mind?


End file.
